


Naked and Far From Home

by mercuryofthehill



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angry Roger Taylor (Queen), Angst, Band Fic, Deaky needs a hug, Early 70s, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Pain, brian trying to keep it all together, deaky isn't what he seems to be, freddie can heal people with song, freddie is freddie like always, really early days, roger goes into fits, soft deaky, there may be sequel if i still want to write at the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-03-07 11:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryofthehill/pseuds/mercuryofthehill
Summary: Freddie, the misunderstood musical healer. John, the cute thing that avoids confrontation. Roger, the rage-filled man of strength. Brian, the vision into the future.  You'd probably not be surprised at how tables turn with them.





	1. Not Even A 'Thank You'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie introduces himself, and finds himself in a tricky situation...As well as the place he's meant to be at

How would I start this? My story…Well, our story, isn’t something i could possibly tell within an hours time. No, it would take a bit longer. A lot longer if I really wanted to be detailed. I apologize, I’m dawdling. My name is Freddie Bulsara. I’m a 26 year old man. Well, 24 at the time of my tale. This all happened two years ago. I’m no…ordinary…man. There are only a select few others like me. I’m a…

I’m a _Virgo!_

.

.

.

I got you there didn’t I? No, I’m just messing with you. I am a Virgo, however. The thing is I actually am something called an Oddity. An Oddity is someone with a special ability, or as some say, “magic power”. Only one though. Mine is the ability to cure all with the use of song. I sing, they heal. It’s a rather strange experience for the other but that’s the way I was born and i have no intention to hide it anymore.

Speaking of my healing ability, let’s begin the actual story and not waste anymore time. Let me show you how a simple act of kindness to an actual idiot almost cost me my life.

…

Wind blew in my hair, through my fingers, and past my outstretched arms. Most of my time as a seventeen year old boy was spent in the outdoors, enjoying my life as is. I knew what would happen to me as I grow older

“I’m a princess!”, I giggled, and tried to step down from the rock I was perched on. The boulder leaned as I lowered myself, tilting me backwards onto the ground, narrowly missing a pile of dirt.

Luckily, I wasn’t wearing a nice outfit. Oh, if I was, I would have kicked the thing I was once standing on. I’d probably hurt my foot as well, but that’s not important.

I lay back and admired the beauty of the forest. A smoothly running river sat below me, quietly flowing past, never the same water it was a second prior. The trees smelled like dirt and growth, towering over me and shading most of the ground with plentiful leaves in the branches. These trees were also home to many forest animals, such as squirrels, robins, and chipmunks.

When I first came to this place, it was a lonely stay. All the animals ran away, and the river was drier. I didn’t particularly like the setting at first. As I came back more often (everyday at least) I seemed to become more familiar to all that live there. The trees grew more and more beautiful every day, and the river water flowed on. I even woke up once after a nap to find a deer laying next to me with its head on my lap.

Here in the forest was the only place I could get my peace. I live in an orphanage, with a bunch of other ugly little boys. Ugly, immature, rude, and discriminative. To be honest, they were worse behaved than animals! Being attracted to men doesn’t make you any less human.

None of the boys know of my power. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing. The orphanage is a strict one. The head of the orphanage hates me in particular. He’s probably thrilled that I’ll be leaving next year. I don’t know what I’d do after that, being born as such a “monstrosity” which somehow makes me less eligible for a job.

If anyone of the boys at my orphanage found out about my power, I’d be verbally tortured throughout the year, until I finally become eighteen. Or even worse, I’d be sent away.

That’s why I leave the stress of their words for as long as I can. Somehow, animals and plants seem more human than people do. Nobody knows I come here. It’s a little secret for me.

I shot up in alarm after hearing a sharp whine. You could have mistaken it for a wolf cry. I quietly crept over to the source of the sound. I almost jumped back in shock when I saw them curled up at the base of the sycamore tree.

A small boy, about the age of 16, was clutching his leg close to his body. It was bleeding, with a large gash down the side of it. It looked like something might have attacked him, or he had fallen from a tree and cut his leg on a rock or something.

I knew this boy. He was one of the only ones that didn’t spit insults at me whenever i walked by.

I ran to his side and shook him slightly, “Kennedy! What happened to you?”

He trembled in my arms, “F-Freddie! What are you doing here?”

“Never mind that, dear, how did you get this?”

He avoided my eyes, looking down at his hand on the ground. It must have been something embarrassing. Well, Kennedy never wants to admit he did something wrong, so it might not even be all that bad.

I could tell he was choking back tears. He scooted away from my arms, and huddled into himself more

Kennedy never looks like this…he can’t even tell me what’s wrong. He must really hurt.

I bit my lip and looked at him, “Kennedy, I can help you, darling if you want…”

He stared up at me, “You can’t…?”

“Oh, but I can. Please don’t run away,”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. He shifted away from me, apparently concerned. I would be too if someone told me not to run away.

I sat at the end of his leg, and focused energy on it. I couldn’t help the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had never done this for another person in so long, and i’m still not sure if he’d be comfortable enough to see what i’m about to do. Well, i’m healing him anyway. I don’t think anyone would be scared of something that helped them. Besides, he was a nice person. He’s understanding.

Then again, you can be wrong about a lot of things.

I sang a sweet melody. Something that I grew up knowing. The energy from my voice cleaned and sealed the gash in his leg. It was something I was born knowing how to do, and would die knowing how. I smiled, looking back at him, only to meet fearful and hateful eyes.

He yelped and drove his fist into my gut. Pain exploded at the area and made me double over, clutching my stomach. I could barely see him running away towards the orphanage. My blood ran cold at the sight.

If they found out what I did, they’d separate me from the others. That itself isn’t bad, but if the take me from the orphanage, I’ll either be on the streets alone, or I’d be sent to a Home for Oddities. I don’t know what would be worse.

A Home for Oddities, or HFO, is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a place for people with peculiar powers to go when causing trouble or when they don’t have anywhere to stay on their own and are a risk to “normal” society.

Most HFO’s are terrible. I’ve seen one before, when out on my trip to town for a Saturday. The Heads of the House, who are usually humans themselves, mistreat all who live there, regardless of age. I arrived by a window to see a man with slicked back blond hair and piercing blue eyes beating a smaller boy with long brown hair huddled into a ball. He looked like he was barely out of childhood. I still shiver at the thought of being sent to such a place.

Despite the lightheaded-ness I felt when pulling myself up, I forced my legs as fast as they could after my so-called friend. If I got caught, it would be the end for me. He screamed out when he noticed me running after him, probably thinking I wanted to kill him. I can’t completely say he was wrong though. He had no idea how bad my life would turn out to be if I was taken from the orphanage.

“Kennedy wait! Come back! I don’t want to hurt you!”

“GET AWAY FROM MEEEE!!!”

“For fucks sake, mate! I was helping you!”

I could barely catch up to him, cursing his speed. That’s the one thing he was good at. He had run every morning at the break of dawn. I could see him reach the orphanage in the distance, making me frantically run faster. He scrambled into the front office as fast as his ungrateful feet could take him. My heart stopped as he slammed and locked its door. I could hear his voice through the door, and vaguely sensed my name leave his mouth. There was only one thing I could do now; Run away.

If they caught me, they would most likely send me to an HFO for “disturbing the peace” here. Now that I think about it, an HFO is much worse than being free.

I dashed into the forest that I had previously emerged from, and hurried up into a tree. They couldn’t find me here, right?

Of course, I had to be wrong. I could hear faint voices coming from below me. A group of people, including Kennedy, were wandering around. I froze and didn’t dare to move. I didn’t even blink.

“Where is he? Kennedy, where did you last see him?”

“H-he was running after me, so I went to the office and I don’t know what happened after that. He has to be in here though. I know him”

Goddammit.

I was having a conversation with him a while ago, and told him that if I were being hunted, I would go in the forest. Now he’s using that against me. I should have known not to trust people again.

“Let’s go look over there. I heard a few noises around that area. Alexander, go search that way.”

The brunet man with them left in the opposite direction as the other two left somewhere else. I made my move to escape. A breath of relief left my mouth as I climbed down to the ground, looking both ways.

Oh no, wrong move~

A pair of hands pushed me down, an straddled me from behind, struggling to put me in handcuffs. This sounds kinky but it felt far from that at the time.

The man on my back rose and stood to the side, while the Head of the orphanage walked to the front of me. He snarled,

“That’s what you deserve. I don’t know why we thought taking you in was a good idea.”

I glared at him and spit at his shoes.

Wrong again~

He kicked me in the same spot Kennedy punched me, making me wince. I curled into a ball and silently groaned. He yanked me up and said, “Let’s go. Now.”

It kept me silent for the remainder of the way to the man’s office, knowing how much worse everything would get if I said anything else. He shoved me down into his dirty leather chair, motioning for the brunet to shut the door. Kennedy was told to go outside and resume his daily activities.

“Do you know what you could have done?”

“…”

“You could have hurt Kennedy. He tells me you sang to him and worked some kind of magic. We can’t have you doing this type of stuff around here. This is a strict facility, and I will not allow any nonsense taking place here! We can’t have you stay here anymore.”

I looked up in alarm, “I didn’t do anything to hurt him! This is the first time I used my magic in front of others!”

“That doesn’t matter. There’s no telling whether you will do something even worse in the future. We’re going to have to decide what to do with you. You are going to sleep in solitude for the remainder of your time here. Alexander, take him to the room.”

“Yes sir.”

My mouth went dry at the thought of being sent to the nearest HFO, The Smith Home, which was the one I had seen the boy being beaten in. I know I

could always heal myself and others, but it just sent shivers down my spine to even go to such a place.

The brunet who had been leading me down the hallway stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. I was met with a kind and gentle gaze. What was he trying to pull? I’m just a poor boy with no family.

“I know you didn’t mean any harm. I want to help you.”

His soft voice made me look up at him. He smiled.

“Come with me.”

I hesitated to follow him. He could be just testing me to see if I was as gullible as he thought, or maybe he’s trying to lure me in somewhere to do something to me. My mind was running wild with possibilities.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

I looked up at him, and his smiling face. There was nothing to lose anyway. I was at rock bottom.

He led me away from the direction of the solitude room, and instead towards a door in the back of the orphanage, where I had never ventured before. A rusty door stood ahead of me, unlocked, tempting me to just run out and leave this place.

“I’m going to help you out of here. Trust me. Go through that door, and run as fast and quietly as you can. It doesn’t matter where. As long as it’s away from here. Quickly.”

What? He wasn’t kidding? This must be some kind of trap. It was all happening so fast. Just a few minutes ago, I was condemned to living out whatever the head decided for me. There’s no way this was true…or was it?

I ran as fast as I could, away from the evil establishment I once called my prison, away from any supposed trap the man had set for me. It was strange, this feeling, of running away with no purpose whatsoever. I had nowhere to go. I even considered running over to the nearest HFO, no matter how much they beat me. Anything was better than living outside on my own, now that I felt the cold air on my back and the lonely feeling in my heart. Well, I always feel that, it’s just that it was stronger now that I had no direction.

I just realize that, first of all, there was no trap. I was being paranoid. And second of all, I hadn’t apologized/thanked the man for setting me free. But there was no going back now. I could risk getting caught.

This part of the forest I had never gone in. It was brighter here. There were more open spaces. As I came to another clearing far from the orphanage, I spotted a building in the distance. I ran toward it, not caring whether it was a slaughterhouse or a hair salon. I could get my hair redone anyway, if it was. I needed help. I needed someone to direct me. I was feeling overwhelmed and lightheaded, and had no energy to sing to heal myself right now.

I knocked on the door, swaying, as a man with dark brown hair opened the door to the place. He wasn’t able to start talking to me; I had passed out at his feet.


	2. Blank Faced People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie has a dream, Roger, Brian, and Freddie officially meet each other, and Freddie finds a new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking forever to update!💚💚💚💚

I peek just past the corner, looking into the hallway, towards the front door. Something tells me to leave. Something tells me to go back to my friends.

 

A man with slicked back blond hair and piercing blue eyes stands there, hand tightly gripping a younger boy’s shoulder. I can't make out who the younger is, but from the way he sits, unmoving, it’s easy to see that the poor dear is scared out of his mind.

 

I peer at the blank face of the boy. Of course, this must be a dream. Blank faced people don’t exist. I don’t think so, anyway. I take a step. Then another. As much as my subconscious fights me, and warns me to go, to leave, I am drawn in by an aura that surrounds him. I am welcomed into the boy’s apparent sweetness. His kindness. Some sort of attraction I do not yet know the name of. As I near him, the room grows smaller. The tall, blond man that was once tightly gripping the boy’s shoulder, is now floating away. I adore my blank-faced guest. I can sense his care, his love, but also a hint of… apprehension. Of stress. I want to relieve him.

 

How are you darling?

 

I'm alright, Freddie.

 

No you’re not, dear. I can tell.

 

I will be OK. It’s just a cold.

 

I know he lied. I am hurt. Why does he lie? Why does my friend not trust me?

 

I wish I could heal him. But, when I touch my paper-faced friend, he disappears into the air. I let him go. I want to go after him. Help him. Kill whomever hurt him.

 

Then everything freezes.

 

***

 

I jolted awake, eager to move and be free from the once ‘frozen’ state I was in. Obviously, I was not in the orphanage anymore. But there was a silent breathing noise from beside me.

 

I opened my eyes. Subtle, harvest gold wallpaper. Matching curtains. Matching bed sheets and covers. God, look at all this brown! Who on earth thought that making a room all in the same color was a good idea?.

 

The sun’s rays peeked in through slits in between the closed curtains, casting onto the brown carpet. I looked over to my left.

 

There stood a tall, handsome man. He had thick, luscious, curly, chocolate brown hair, that rested on his shoulders. He didn’t notice me awake, until he turned his eyes to mine. The corners of his mouth perked up slightly, and his eyes crinkled.

 

“Looks like you’re awake, sir! I hope you don’t mind I put you into one of the extra beds. I wanted to wash your clothes, but I couldn't just invade your privacy and take them off you! So i left them on. Oh! I’m sorry. My name is Brian. I’m 16.’

 

His strange shoes caught my eye, but I tried keeping eye contact to not be rude, “Ofh thank you so much darling. And please don’t call me ‘sir’, dear, i’m only a year older than you. My name is Freddie”

 

“My apologies Freddie. Hold on for a moment, please? I need to call in my friend.”

 

I nodded, as he called out to his friend, who was supposedly outside.

 

“ROGER! THE GUEST IS AWAKE.”

 

“WHAT??”

 

“I SAID, THE GUEST IS AWAKE!”

 

“WHAAAAT?????”

 

I grinned as Brian rolled his eyes and huffed, making his way out towards where his friend was. It reminded me of the boys at the orphanage. Hopefully his friend wasn’t an asshole.

 

About a minute later, Brian and another short, blonde boy with shimmering blue eyes returned.

 

I assumed his name was Roger. He grinned at me and stuck his hand out, which i shook.

 

“Roger Taylor. I’m 14. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Freddie Bulsara. It’s my pleasure, darling.”

 

Luckily, neither boys seemed to express any opposition to my way of addressing people, as several people of my past have.

 

“Now that we all know each other's names, i suppose i should thank you, or whomever cared for me in my unconscious state. Now, one question I’d like to have answered. Where am I?”

 

Roger led us out into the living room, as Brian departed deal with something in the kitchen.

 

“Other than ‘out in the middle of the woods’? Well, you’re in The Beach House.”

 

“The Beach House?” I inquired, “What’s that?”

 

“It’s an HFO.”

 

Chills ran up and down my spine. HFO? I had seen what humans had done to the oddities in HFOs. I saw that young boy through the window of the Smith House.

 

“No. No. NO.”

 

I ran to the door, and seized the doorknob. I couldn’t just stay and wait around for the Head of the House to come back home and beat me half to death! I’d rather starve on the street and die, than be beaten and ridiculed by a human such as a Head of a House. It made me feel sorry for these people who must have been so used to being beat that they considered it normal, and no longer had a desire to live their own life anymore.

 

Roger called out to me in a panic before i could twist the knob in my left hand, “Wait! The Head of our House isn’t like all the others! He cares about us, and gets us things, and he’s respectful. He’s not a human!”

 

I paused. Could this place possibly be different? No way! These poor dears have probably gone half crazy already! But I couldn’t bring myself to leave. It was like there was something telling me that I had to stay. That I would regret it if I did leave.

 

I slowly walked back to the couch to listen to him, while Brian carefully carried the tea into the living room.

 

“I know what others are like with Oddities, and how they mistreat them. Hell, He’s an oddity himself!”

 

Guess there’s no arguing that. If he’s really an oddity, there’d be no way he’d a buse another of his own kind, because of what they are. I just hope that he’s not abusive, regardless of species.

 

Brian smiled kindly at me, “ Do you have anywhere you’re supposed to be, Freddie?”

 

I shook my head, so he continued, “OK then. We should pass the time by telling each other about our abilities, and how we got here. How’s that?”

 

“Sounds good, Bri.”

 

“Sure, I don’t mind that.”

 

He continued, “I suppose I'll go first. I have the ability to predict the future. I can see up to a year in advance.”

 

My jaw dropped. I’ve never met another oddity in my life, up to this point. His power sounded extraordinary.compared to mine.

 

“It sounds amazing, I know. But when you actually have the ability, it’s not that fun. At all. You always know what’s going to happen, and people use you as a tool. I hate it, “ He sniffled.

 

I furrowed my eyebrows and rubbed his back soothingly. Poor darling, everyone using him like a weather tool or something.

 

“Before I came to the Beach home, I was used in the news casting business to predict weather, future crimes, and such things. It was shit. Everyone treated me as if I was an object. They ignored me at all times, unless necessary. When I was 14, they let me go because I wouldn’t cooperate anymore, which is why this house exists in the first place.”

 

I raised my eyebrows. ‘What does he mean by that...?’

 

As if he could read my mind, he continued, “I helped the Head of the House start it in the first place. I’ve seen how cruel others are to oddities, and I hated how I was treated at the news casting business, so I decided to spend my life helping to care for oddities who need it. The Beach House has been open for two years so far, and hopefully many more in the future.”

 

I shyly smiled. He seemed to be doing this for a genuine good cost, the dear. How lovely!

 

“I suppose I should go next then?” I asked him

 

“Sure.”

 

“Well, let’s see. I have the ability to cure anybody or any animal with song. I lived in a nearby orphanage for all my life up until this point. Nobody really cared for me, so I spent most of my time in solitude, exploring the forest, and enjoying nature. One day, specifically yesterday, I was out in the forest, when I heard a cry. At first I thought it was a wild animal stuck in a trap or something, but on closer inspection, it was my ‘friend’ Kennedy. He had a large gash on his leg, so I decided to be nice, you know, and cure it for him.”

 

They nodded in understanding, but their brows were furrowed, most likely because there wasn’t anything wrong with what I had said so far, and no twist was present yet.

 

I resumed my story, “ But when I start singing and fixing up his leg, you know what he does? The asshole starts screaming, and punches me in the gut, and then runs away. Of course, if I get caught, the head of the orphanage would send me away. And he was just about to, i bet, when he found out. He sent me to spend the next few days in solitude, but I was lucky enough to be walking with a savior on the way to the room. He led me to a back door, set me free, and now I'm here.”

 

Roger chuckled at my story (which I found slightly condescending), “At least you came here out of doing good. You know what? I don’t have a ‘blessing’. My power is practically a curse. Thing is, whenever someone makes me really angry, I go into these episodes of rage. I gain a weird strength, and I can't control my actions, like a chimpanzee with a gun. I never remember what happens during these episodes, which worries me. I hate not knowing.”

 

I patted his shoulder to console him, in case he would get emotional.

 

“I’ve heard from my close friends and such, that when it happens, I…. I ...I tend to hurt a lot of people, even my closest friends ...”

 

He looked down for a second, but soon resumed his talk, “Please, please don’t be scared of me after I say this, Freddie, but…. I killed 13 people. 13 people while in an episode.”

 

No one said a word. This poor dear had killed so many people. And it wasn’t even his fault. I never knew what it was like to have a deadly power that you couldn’t control, but I could at least try to empathize, and make sure he knows he’s not alone.

 

Roger cleared his throat, “One day, I almost got caught by the police after I knocked someone out, so I escaped. While I was running, I luckily phased out of my anger. If I didn’t, by the time I got here, I might have hurt Brian”

 

The silence resumed. I was slightly frightened of what this boy had done, even before the age of 14. But it wouldn’t change how I interact with and think about him. It’s just what he had done that shocked me. I only had to be careful not to get him really angry at me or anyone else, or the consequences could even possibly be fatal.

 

“Roger…. I just want to let you know that I don’t think of you any differently than I did before. Don’t worry, darling.”

 

A jiggle of a doorknob sounded throughout the room, making me turn my head and search for the source of the noise. A tall man came through the front door, wearing a long sleeved, button up shirt with a floral print, tucked into deep blue flared jeans

 

“Brian, Roger, come help me with the--”

 

The man’s eyes had found me, and I could tell he was curiously fixated on trying to figure out who I was. Brian stood up the greet the strange person, and said, “Jim, this is Freddie. Freddie, this is the head of the house, Jim Beach.”

 

When he said “Head of the House” I forgot all the praising comments Brian and Roger made about him. The last figure of authority I met was the orphanage Master. Jim drew nearer, with a large small, and friendliness in his eyes. In spite of his welcoming exterior, I backed away and refused to shake his hand when it was offered to me.

 

His expression didn’t change when I hesitated. Jim lowered his hand and backed away slightly,

 

“Don’t worry Freddie. I’m not going to hurt you or anything like those others in the city. This shelter was specifically opened to shield those in pain from danger. I want to welcome you, and I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

 

His smile never faded. It was bright, but not in a suspicious or creepy way. It was a genuine smile. While I avoided eye contact and looked away to the collection of Beatles albums on a shelf, I heard Jim scolding Roger for something or other.

 

At least we share music taste, I guess.

 

When I looked back to Jim, he was focused on staring at the hallway, for a few seconds longer than I would consider normal. As I was about to make a questioning comment, a curious sight entered my vision.

 

Roger had emerged from the hallway where Jim was staring. He was crossing his arms and frowning. Only, he was hovering across the floor. Hovering.

 

“ROGER, WHAT THE FUCK???”

  
  


I cleared my throat and blushed after my outburst. It wasn’t like me to blush of embarrassment, so why now? I didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought of me, right?

 

Jim looked back at me, embarrassment clear in his eyes.

 

“Sorry, Freddie,” he apologized, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m not a human either, just in case Roger and Brian didn’t tell you. I can summon people from within a 30 meter distance. I assume you aren’t human either, correct?”

 

I barely managed to force my words out, “ Y-yes. I mean-- no, no I am not a human.”

 

Jim still managed to keep the same, friendly face. “You looked lost from the minute I came in. Would you, perhaps want to stay with us here? We have about two rooms open, and you could take one. Please trust me when I say Roger, Brian and I mean only well to you and anyone that comes here.”

 

I sat pondering his offer for a moment. I had gotten along with the boys surprisingly well, considering how much I isolated myself in the past. I had nowhere else to go, and this offer was one I simply couldn’t bear to pass up.

 

I looked back up to him, “I think I'll stay, darling. But please, don’t give me that room covered in harvest gold. It’s hideous!”

  
  



	3. Born In 1951

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie meets a new person... but he's confusing

My life from the moment I arrived, up until now was… unchanging. It’s not entirely truthful to say that I have not had an enjoyable stay in the past 6 years, but nothing had really  _ happened _ . I need something, anything that would add a new taste of the world. The only excitement I get now is when I converse with someone interesting, or when I play my piano, which I had learned to play about a year after I decided to permanently stay. Of course, such a dull lifestyle has to change sometime. And that’s what happens today.

 

Today started all the same. I wake up, get myself ready for class at noon. I join Roger at the table, and eat cereal, one of the only things that I can make without ruining it. I silently thank whatever God was out there for giving us Brian, because he’s practically the only one of us three that could actually manage to live on his own if he wants to. 

 

“Hey Fred,” Roger mumbles, while staring intently at the back of a box of cereal, “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing that you wouldn’t know about, darling, I live with you, for fuck’s sake.”

 

He shrugs and swallows another spoonful of soggy cornflakes, “ ‘I’m a Believer’, huh? Never seen records on the back of cereal boxes.”

 

I can hear the laundry machine rumbling in the back. It is normal for Brian to be up at 8 am, doing laundry or some shit. But it’s still  _ too fucking early _ for this.

 

To be honest, a lot has changed over the course of the last six years since I've spent my first night here, despite how uneventful they were. I learned that they weren’t homophobic at all, after coming out to them, and that the played their own instruments. We had formed a band after I quickly learned how to play the piano, and we practiced in a “music room” they had downstairs, which was really just the basement. 

 

***

_ Brian ran his hands through his hair, bit his lip and paced around the house, apparently searching for something. I hadn’t known much about him, but I could tell he was distressed and was never going to stop until he reached his goal. _

 

_ I tapped his shoulder, “Brian, darling, what are you doing? You look upset.” _

 

_ He shook his head slightly, returning to pacing around his bedroom, looking under the bed and in his drawers, “I’m looking for the knob to the Red Special. I can’t find it anywhere, and it’s part of the only thing I have left from me dad.” _

 

_ He sank down to the floor, with his face in his hands. I couldn’t just leave him! I had to help him find this knob to whatever he was talking about. I could ask him what the Red Special was later. I crouched down to his level and rested my hand on his back. _

 

_ “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll help you find it. Do you remember anything about where it might be?” _

_ He looked gratefully up at me, got up and shook his head, “I’m afraid not. But thank you for helping me. Let’s go downstairs, maybe I missed it.” _

 

_ As we descended down the stairs, a now sixteen year old Roger greeted us at the last step. _

 

_ “Bri, you poodle, the knob for the Red Special was in your trouser pocket! You’re lucky I check the pockets before putting them in the wash.” _

 

_ Brian’s whole face lit up and he practically jumped at Roger, seizing the small silver knob and pulling Roger into an embrace. _

 

_ I interrupted the silence, “Brian...er, what exactly is the ‘Red Special’?” _

 

_ Brian turned back to me and stuffed the knob in his front trouser pocket, “It’s my guitar. I handmade it with me dad when I was about 15, after the news company let me go.” _

 

_ Roger cut in cheerfully saying, “And I play drums with him! We’ve just messed around with the sounds and such. It’s quite fun really… _

 

***

 

I encounter Brian in the laundry room, loading the dryer with wet clothes.

 

“Hey, Brian, can I help you?”

 

He pauses his chore for a moment, hope in his eyes, only for him to lose his spark, and proceed to look at me with a disappointed glare, “I know what you’re doing Freddie. No, we are not going to get a cat. Roger is allergic, and we can’t afford to even care for it. We’ve both got class at the same time, and Roger’s going to be out all the time. You saw how shitfaced he came home last night. Who’s going to take care of it?”

 

He’s not going to win me over so easily, “It’s simple! I can cure Roger of his allergies and we can always ask Miami to give us some money for a cat sitter. Please?”

 

Once on a hazier day with mistier mist, I had a few too many glasses of wine. Jim, the Head of the house (in case you forgot) was staying for a while, just to check up on us. Somehow, (I don’t remember how that well, and Brian and Roger won’t tell me.) he ended up being called Miami.

 

Brian resumes his loading of the wet clothes, “Speaking of Miami, he’s going to be coming over today to talk with us about something. I don’t know what, but he says it’s important.”

 

I fake a surprised gasp, as he completely ignores the solution to my cat problem. Miami rarely comes over unless it was urgent, which is never. Like I said, nothing exciting happens here. Whatever Miami is going to tell us can’t be that important, can it?

 

A crash and a shriek in the kitchen makes me quickly forget my imaginary cat. I run into the kitchen, about to yell at Roger for breaking something, but Brian stops me with his hand, whispering, “Don’t. He’s hurt.”

 

He runs to the side of a frightened Roger, who is huddled in the kitchen corner with his arms covering his head. 

 

My curly-haired friend quickly puts his arms around the blond’s shoulders, calming him, and making attempts to guide him in a breathing process.

 

“It’s ok, Roger, breath with me, I'll help you..”

 

“NO!”

 

Roger jerks away from him and stumbles to the other side of the kitchen, stepping over glass shards scattered on the floor. I manage to catch a glimpse of Roger’s bleeding hand, as he clutches it close to himself.

 

I gasp, “Roger! Your hand, darling, you’re bleeding!”

 

I  try to move towards him to take care of his wound, but he sticks his left hand out at me, and whimpers, “Don’t come closer! I might hurt you!”

 

What is he on about? Obviously he’s referring to his “power”, but this was quite sudden as he never had any serious problems with it in the past years that I’ve been here.

 

I try to ignore his frantic pleas and start to inch closer to him, trying not to cause alarm, when suddenly, keys can be heard jingling in the door. I don’t budge, meaning Brian is going to have to answer. He looks at me concernedly before leaving to answer the door. I hear Brian’s conversation with our visitor, along with Roger’s quiet whines and sniffles.

 

“Miami, You’re here! Thank god, we need help with Roger. He’s squeezed a glass too hard, and it exploded.”

 

“Roger? Exploding glass? He’s never done that before…”

 

“Oh really?” I snap, “Well he has now. Help us, goddamnit!”

 

Miami edges closer to Roger, whispering things like, “Don’t worry, Roger,” and “You won’t hurt me.”

 

Roger can’t seem to be able to look at Miami. He’s ashamed. Ashamed of what he was born as. Ashamed of the fact that he was breaking down in the corner of the kitchen, needing a man to tell him lies to calm him down. But it worked, and he couldn’t change the fact that he wanted protection, despite the fact he never needed it.

 

Fortunately, he’s distracted enough to let me sing a healing tune for him, to remove the slivers and bits of glass embedded in his hand, clean, and seal the wound. 

 

Of course, I don’t really expect much more than a quiet ‘thank you’ from him, seeing as he had just broken down into tears a few minutes prior, but he does something much more unexpected.

 

He bolts past Miami and I, into Brian’s arms. He starts sobbing uncontrollably, about how he believes he was pathetic, and worthless, while Brian attempts to erase each those self deprecating thoughts with every whisper of, “No, you’re not, Rog. You’re not worthless.” as he strokes his hair.

 

I don’t mind the fact that he ignored me, so I don’t tease Roger about that subject, but I do have to ask Brian a question.

 

“Bri, how did you know that Roger “exploded” a glass? You just said that a couple minutes ago.”

 

He looks up for a second, patting the back of his blond companion as if he were a child, “Oh, that? Remember, Freddie, I can see a few minutes into the future. Speaking of that, I can sense something coming. Miami, didn’t you have to tell us something?”

 

Miami doesn’t react the first time Brian calls his name, as he had just started playing  _ The Cry Of Love _ on the turntable.

 

_ “You got my pride _

_ hanging outta my bed _

_ You're messin' with my life _

_ So I bought my lead ..." _

 

Miami starts humming along to the first song, “Freedom”, completely ignoring Brian’s call.

 

“Miami! Did you hear me?”

 

“Aye, I heard you. And I’m not going to tell you what it is. I already know you’ll start overreacting, again. It’s going to be here in about thirty minutes. Be patient.”

 

Brian’s mouth hangs slightly open at Miami’s tease, “I do not!  I react perfectly normally! Right, Roger? Freddie?”

 

I quietly chuckle at his defeated expression, as he realizes that neither of us are going to defend him. Miami turns around and smirks, while Roger makes his way to the couch, sitting next to me in a comfortable silence, his sniffles dying down. We just had to wait for this “thing” that our Head of the House briefly informed us of

 

About half an hour later, Miami turns to us, and says, “They’re going to be here in a minute. I want you all to clear out of the living room. I don’t want to make the guest uncomfortable.”

 

Brian, of course being himself, nods and retreats to his bedroom. Roger would have usually put up a fight and demand that he get in on whatever’s going on as well, and who this guest was, but he was apparently exhausted from what had occurred in the kitchen, so he leaves as well. I, however would not go in without more about what the absolute  _ fuck _ was happening.

 

“Miami, I’m not leaving. Not until you tell me what’s going on. I’ve got a right to know. I’m the oldest, even though maybe not the most responsible.”

 

Just as Miami rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to reply, There are three sharp knocks at the door, which Miami has no choice but to answer. Something small in the back of my head urges me to leave.

 

A man with slicked back blond hair and piercing blue eyes stands there, hand tightly gripping a younger man’s shoulder. He’s carrying a suitcase. The younger is a mousy young man, with long, brown hair. His eyes were a greenish grey in colour, and his facial features are soft, warm and terrified.

 

I have a strong case of déjà vu.

 

The sweet greenish grey eyes meet mine.

 

_ “Angel came down from heaven yesterday _

_ She stayed with me just long enough to rescue me _

_ And she told me a story yesterday _

_ About the sweet love between the moon and the deep blue sea..." _

 

I slowly excuse myself from the scene, but I stay behind in the hallway to listen in on their conversation. Curiosity always kills the cat

 

The blond man sits on the brown leather couch, setting the suitcase down and narrowing his eyes. He tugs the young man harshly down to sit next to him. The younger looks quite nervous, and scared, but yet all the while curious and relieved. He fiddled with the ends of his hair, determined not to make eye contact with anyone again.

 

The blond man scoffs when Miami offers him a cup of tea, instead insisting they talk about “the matter at hand” as soon as possible

 

He has a piercing eyes, and a strong, muscular build. Just the type to hurt and destroy whatever and whoever defied them. 

 

Miami sits, folding his hands in his lap, and sighs, “Well, first things first. Welcome, John, to the Beach home. I’m Jim Beach.”

 

I frown when Miami omits the nickname I gave him, but I also notice the young man, presumably named John, tense when Miami said “other three that live here”

 

Maybe he was shy.

 

Miami continues, “I’ve heard of your...troubles...in the past with your ability, but I believe the strategy to keep everyone here safe that we discussed was good. Of course, in the meantime that we think of something better. What do you think, John?”

 

The timid young man named John speaks for the first time, with a slightly nasally, soft voice, “Um… I-I think it- I mean, It’s good. Yes... it sounds quite alright...”

 

Miami walks towards his private cabinet in the corner, and opens it, “Alright then. I’ll keep your files with the rest of theirs. I’ve also got these for you, John.”

 

He takes out a bottle of what seemed to be pills.

 

He then hands the bottle of medicine to John, “These are to suppress the urge for about 10 minutes, if in any case you can’t use the strategy. I’ll introduce you to the others now. Just wait right here while I go get them.” 

 

I hide in the bathroom that’s right behind me, as I waited for Miami to get Brian and Roger out of their rooms. 

  
_ Safe?? What did Miami have to keep us safe from? Was John dangerous? What was the strategy he was talking about? I had millions of lingering questions in my mind, and zero answers. _

 

I decide to try and not dwell on the questions I have, and instead leave the bathroom to meet this boy. Brian stood right outside when I opened the door.  He jumps back for a split second when I burst out randomly from the bathroom.

 

“Ah! Freddie! You scared me!” He huffs

 

I smile cheekily, and peer back into the hallway. John sits quietly, inspecting something in the hem of his shirt. I turn to Brian, and ask him, “Have you seen who’s sitting outside?”

 

He nods, “Yeah, while I was in my room. I haven't a clue who he is yet, or why he’s here, but I have a feeling he’s going to stay with us.”

 

He grins with excitement. He had always been hoping for someone new. I’d be just as happy as he was, were it not for what I heard previously. But I’m not going to tell him about that. 

 

Miami comes down the stairs, with Roger following close behind, “I’m going to introduce you to someone new. He’s going to be another addition to our House. His name is John. I trust you’ll try to be nice to him. He’s been through a lot.”

 

Roger groans quietly, “Great, a mental case…”

 

I smack his side, “Roger! Shut up, will you!”

 

“Sorry Fred. I guess you’re right. But if I have to be careful about choosing which words I use around him, I will, but I’m not going to be happy...”

 

Brian scoffs, “Roger, if you honestly think we care--”

 

“I’m just saying!”

 

Miami rolls his eyes once more and pulls us out into the living room, where we catch John’s attention

 

“Guys, this is John Deacon. He’s going to be staying here with you from now on.”

 

We all nod in acknowledgement, letting Miami continue with the introductions. When he finished, he left us alone to talk and get to know each other, while he made us all lunch.

 

I hold out my hand for him to use to pull himself up, and he does. His hand is soft.

 

“Well, John, it is nice to meet you. I suppose we should show you to your room, yeah?”

 

John nods and lightly blushes, “Y-yes, thank you...”

 

I smile at his shy nature. He doesn’t seem any more dangerous than a cute little mouse.  _ What did they mean, they have to keep us safe?? _

 

We gather in the living room, and Brian clears his throat, “We should start with the rules before we get to John’s room. Number one: Everyone is entitled to their own privacy. Never enter each other’s room unless necessary or given permission. Number two--”

 

“Brian, he doesn’t need to hear the rules right now. He just got here. We should help getting him settled,” I smirk at the poodle crossing his arms in front of me, “Don’t mind him, darling, Brian can be an utter bore sometimes.”

 

John gives me a small smile and his face turns a faint pink. He looks adorable.

 

“I never knew that other...places...had rules.”

 

When you look at who had brought him here, and you know where that man has come from, you understand his confusion at the thought of anything but chaos at an HFO. At the Smith home, there aren’t any rules. I had eavesdropped several times, as a child, trying to get a glimpse of what horrors there were beyond the orphanage in order to convince myself to go back.

 

We move upstairs, where John’s room is, across from Roger’s

 

I grin as we entered John’s room, “‘S much bigger than mine. I’m gonna have to talk to Miami about this!”

 

John looks quizzically at me and asks, “M-Miami?”

  
I smile lovingly at his cute face, “It’s what we call Jim, dear. It’s a nickname that  _ I  _ came up with, so don’t believe what these two say about claiming it as their idea.”

 

He nods and sits on the large bed, bouncing gently up and down, “I don’t think I have much to unpack. I….I would like to… if it’s no trouble… could we...get to know each other a bit more? I don’t like the thought of living with complete strangers, so...y’know..”

 

I can tell he’s having trouble with asking for something he wanted. Poor darling. I pat his back, so that he would hopefully feel less awkward, “Of course, darling! Let’s go downstairs.”

 

I know Brian and Roger are mumbling to each other about my odd behavior towards John, who  I just met. I can see how it would look weird. But… I just feel some sort of connection, like a thread is connecting us. I can’t stop my protectiveness, and I hope he doesn’t find it strange.

 

But, there is still something that was eating at me. If it causes too much of a problem, one of us would have to leave, and it’s almost a 100% chance that it would have to be me.

 

Brian places another record on the turntable,  _ Please Please Me.  _ John’s eyes brightens when he hears “I Saw Her Standing There” begin playing.

 

“You l-like The Beatles?”

 

Brian places the empty record sleeve to the side and nods, “Yeah, we all do. We like a lot of artists.”

 

I nervously shift in my seat, hoping to whoever was out there above, that this wouldn’t end in a horrendously awful confrontation.

 

“John, do you….have a problem with people like me?”

 

When he tilted his head, questioning what I meant, my confidence stuttered, and my voice became hushed.

 

“I mean… people who are...homosexual…”

 

John’s eyes widen, but not in disgust or in curiosity, but more surprise. He quickly shakes his head, “Oh, no! Of course not!”

  
  
  


I’m relieved. He’s apparently not some homophobic arsehole. He didn’t seem like one at first, but I had to make sure. I honestly don’t even know what I would have done, if he were.

 

Brian quickly exits the room to tend to the washing and drying, leaving me and John sitting across from each other, and Roger sitting on my side. He picks at his fingernail and absentmindedly asks, “So, what can you do?”

 

John visibly tenses and bites his lip, “Uh-h...um… I--”

 

I slowly interrupt John to save him from feeling uncomfortable, and to make him feel safer in my presence, “You don’t have to answer, John, darling. We understand.”

 

Roger makes no response to either of us, but John smiles gratefully, and turns the question around, “What about you, Freddie? What do you do, and how’d you get here?”

 

The corners of my mouth rise slightly, and I cross my legs,“Well...I've got the ability to heal people with song. I used to live at an orphanage, where nobody knew I was an oddity. Nobody really treated me nicely, of course. There were a couple of people who were quite civil, however, and I found one, one day, in the middle of the forest. I used to hang out there a lot, but there wouldn’t be anyone else. When I went over to see him, I saw he had hurt himself, so I tried to sing for him, but when I finished he fucking kicked my arse! For no reason!”

 

John gives me a wide grin, and his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. An endearing sight, to be honest.

 

I continue, “So he ran over to the orphanage Head, and told him what had happened. So I go running to the woods to hide, but they come looking for me, and find me. Then they try to send me to a room of complete solitude. Thankfully, this nice man named alexander helped me escape, and I found myself here, where Brian took care of me. This was about 6 years ago, I believe. What about you, darling, is there anything you’d be comfortable with telling me?”

 

John looks like he’s considering my request for a second, like he doesn’t know whether it’s allowed or not. I awaited his answer, until a loud snore from beside me rang out. Roger turned out to be fast asleep, most likely tired from staying up late all night at a bar last night. He had recently turned 21, the age he can go out and get drinks on his own, and he already was taking advantage of it. Hopefully it won’t turn into anything too serious that we will have to deal with in the future.

 

John quickly excuses himself to his bedroom to get settled in, and I smiled to myself, thinking about how lucky we are, having such a cute and shy new flatmate. Although, one question still bothers me.

 

_ How could something so innocent-looking be dangerous in any way? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's taking forever to update sometimes but here you guys go! Longest chapter out of all of them, so far.💚


	4. The Best Flatmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, the new guy, turns out to be one of the best flatmates ever.

The smell of eggs and bacon wafted throughout the house. Someone working in the kitchen could be heard from my room.

 _Must be Brian cooking_ , I thought, as I yawned and stretched, leaving my room.

_Roger can’t make food, and John...well, I don’t think John even has the bravery to leave his room unless called for._

My stomach growled, urging me to follow the scent and eat something. I walked into the kitchen, where the sight of a nicely set table and a delicious-looking breakfast greeted me. John stood there at the sink, washing the dishes silently.

Why did he suddenly act so helpful? He just got here yesterday. Nobody has ever been as considerate as he has so far. Not even Brian would go out of his way to make food for us before we woke up. Maybe he’s just one of those kinds of people that feel that they need to do nice things for people when they first meet them.

I cleared my throat to catch his attention, so I wouldn’t come off as a creep, if he turned around and saw me suddenly sitting there, “Good morning, John. What are you doing up so early, darling?”

He turned around and smiled sweetly, the corners of his eyes crinkling again, and a little gap in his teeth showing. He practically looked like an angel straight from heaven. I felt like I wanted to defend him from the evil of the world. Is this his ability? Making people feel protective over him so he doesn’t have to do anything for himself? I must say, it’s damn useful, if you’re not capable.

But if I’m not right...What can explain my concern for his well-being? Whatever, it’s not anything I have to deal with right now. I’m fucking hungry!

He placed a plate of breakfast in front of me, shyly brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, “ I just woke up early. Here’s some breakfast. I made it for you all, for being ever so polite to me yesterday. I really appreciate it.”

Was his ability being irresistibly cute too? I might want to hit that if he’s gay too…

His face flushed a bright red, and he quickly backed up against the counter, “W-wait, what?”  
  


Oh shit, did I say that out loud?

“John, wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--”

Roger burst in, saving me from having to explain what I just said. He seemed back to normal, after what had happened yesterday. I’m still worried about him though. He’s never done anything like that before. What was going on with him?

_I’ve been burying myself with so many questions and suspicions lately. I need to forget about all this shit, or Brian and Roger will start to think something is wrong._

Roger fell into a seat next to me, patting me on the back and greeting us both loudly, “Morning, you both. Why so red, John? Freddie turning you into a tomato?”

John squeaked and continued washing the dishes in the sink, trying not to make eye contact with either of us. Roger had that effect on people. Although, John’s a man, so I’m not sure if that’s how it works for him.

He was up unusually early today. Usually, he’d get up at around 9:30 if he had his 10:00 class. Then he’d fall asleep for another ten minutes, have a PTA shower, shovel cereal into the never-ending abyss called his stomach, and speed off to class.

I can’t really criticize because I used to be the same way, getting up in the morning. But I’m going to drop out soon. Nothing’s going for me at uni, so there’s no point in me showing up anymore. I’ve skipped the last few classes already.

Roger hastily dug into his eggs and didn’t say much after. He had woken up an hour and a half earlier than usual today. Either he had something important soon, or he couldn’t sleep.

The strangest part, however, was the fact that Bri was not up yet. He rarely stayed in past 8 am. It’s something that happens once a decade.

I fingered the pastel green tablecloth and bit my lip as my eyes traveled up to look at the back of John’s head. His hair reached past his shoulders, in soft, maple colored curls. He didn’t look back at either me or Roger, conveying the impression that he didn’t want to face us, either because he was embarrassed, or some other reason unknown to me.

“John,” I began, “ We’re going to show you the rooms today. As soon as that bloody giraffe comes out of his room.”

He mumbled a small “ok”, and quickly set down the last dish being washed, hurriedly wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, and escaped to the bathroom right outside. Not long after, Brian stumbled in, wearing only boxers and a shirt. He didn’t greet either of us, and sank into his chair, yawning.

“It’s about time you’ve woken up, you poodle. Did you go out for a good shag last night or something?”

Brian rolled his eyes, “When did you get so nosy, Fred?”

“When did you get so bitchy, Bri?”

Roger put his dish in the sink and washed it.

He washed his dish.

Without any of us forcing him to.

You heard me right.

I gasped dramatically, “Roger! What did you do? You never wash up willingly.”

He might have done it to make up for the glass yesterday. The Roger  _I_  know would NEVER do chores because he wants to. He’d only do it to impress someone, or because nobody else is home to do it for him.

Roger sighed, placing his dish in the rack, and turning to me and Brian. His gaze focused on his shoes, and his attitude from a couple minutes before changed quickly.

“I quit my job, and I dropped out of uni. I can’t go on doing this anymore. I’m sorry guys. I guess I’ll just be your housemaid or something. Gotta make myself useful.”

Roger turned back to the dishes in the rack, and started drying them, leaving us in silence.

“Roger, are you being serious, or are you just taking the piss? What are you doing to yourself? What the fuck were you thinking?” Brian complained.

Roger whirled around and glared at him, clenching his fists in anger, “WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME, MR. PERFECT?! WHAT HAVE  _YOU_  EVER FAILED AT DOING?”

Roger was about to snap again. Brian, however, was too angry to notice. He was just about to respond when John entered the room, apparently curious as to what the noise was.

“Roger, Brian, are you OK?”

The other two said nothing. They realized how stupid there argument was, and returned to their own tasks. I love both of them, but when will they ever learn to leave things alone? Even Brian, the most sensible and clever, ALWAYS finds a way to make Roger upset, and vice versa.

“They’re alright, darling. They’re just an old married couple.”

“FREDDIE!” Roger and Brian screamed my own name at me.

“Oh, shut up, you two. Why don’t we show Deaky around instead of listening to your shit?”

John raised his eyebrow, “ ‘Deaky’?”

“Yeah, It’s a nickname I just came up with right now. Do you...like it?”

He smiled and nodded, slightly showing his gap.

_Oh, he’s cute!_

***

“...And this is the last bathroom, dear. We’ve only got three, but that’s fine, because not everyone is going to be in them at the same time. This is the one where Roger threw a brick at the wall to kill a spider.”

“Why was there a brick in the bathroom?” John laughed

“ I really don’t know darling. Either way, Roger was being stupid, like always, and threw a brick at the wall.”

“Hey! What about that time that you thought you were home alone, and you walked out into the living room naked and we both saw your co--”

“That’s enough, darling,” I cleared my throat, recalling that humiliating memory as we made our way to Miami’s office.

Brian opened the door, but we didn’t step inside, “This is Miami’s office. Don’t go inside though, John. We lost that privilege when _Roger_  here spilled a stack of papers into a bucket of water.”

I leaned over and whispered into Deaky’s ear, “Don’t ask.”

Roger huffed and crossed his arms, “Well it’s not my fault that he left a bucket of water in there! All I wanted was a little quiet time, but SOMEBODY was occupying the solitude space.”

“What’s the solitude space?”

I turned us both around, facing away from the two bickering men, and pointed to a door at the end of the upstairs hallway, “ That’s the solitude space. It’s where you go when you need time alone. It’s like a Do Not Disturb sign being placed on your door, only the difference is, the walls are soundproof, so whatever happens there, stays there.”

We had already shown Deaky most of the rooms of our own, the bathrooms, Miami’s office, and the solitude space. There was only one room left. The file room.

The files were our personal records on practically everything. Our health, our past, our education, our heritage, our abilities, and everything else. At first when you think about it, it sounds sort of creepy, but when you’re a “possible threat to humanity”, they think they need to know every personal detail.

Since it was still early in the morning, we really had nothing on our hands. Bri and I had the day off for a while, since I’m planning to leave classes, and his professor was sick. I still had to go to work later in the afternoon at my stall in the Kensington market. I was thinking of inviting Roger to come with me to work, since he looked so bored just sitting at home, and I was not going to let him go out every night, shagging random birds.

Brian and I hopped onto the nearby desk that nobody ever sat at. He fiddled with a pen as Roger opened the filing cabinet.

“Here’s yours, Bri. Nobody else had a name starting with B so that was easy.”

He handed Brian his file as he searched for mine.

“Finn Lambert… Flora Cho… Freddie Mercury!”

He handed me the file, flicking it as his hand pulled away to search for his. I ran my hand over the smooth cover. This...This was the folder full of almost everything I've ever experienced, and everything I am.

“You want me to get your file, John, so we can all share our stuff?”

“Uhh, no thank you, Roger.”

I opened the file, and jumped back only slightly for some reason, when I saw a small, blurry picture of me at the young age of 18, after my birthday that year that I got here. I can’t believe it’s been 6 years, and I’m already 24.

“Randy Wolfe...Regina Kent...aha! Roger Meddows Taylor! Me!”

He placed his file on the table next to Brian and his file, while I mindlessly thumbed through the rest of mine.

“You sure you don’t want me to get yours, John?”

“O-Oh no, it’s quite alright, Roger. Please don’t”

Roger shrugged and happily opened his, “Mine first! Let’s see here..”

A picture of young Roger staring blankly ahead met my eyes, as I slowly read on;

**_Roger Meddows Taylor_ **

**_DOB: 07-26-49_ **

**_Height: 5 feet, 9 and a half inches_ **

**_Weight: about 12 stone_ **

**_Abnormal Ability: Rage Strength_ **

**_Kills: 18_ **

**_Notes: A naturally angry person. Becomes extremely violent when provoked. DO NOT ENGAGE WHEN PROVOKED. Has the ability to murder, and seriously injure._ **

I had seen his file once before, but nevertheless, I still felt a wave of shock everytime that number of kills caught my eye. It was bigger than the last time I checked it.

I looked at John to see what he would think about this new information concerning his flatmate. I had a hope that he wouldn’t be frightened away, though I seriously doubt that he wouldn’t be affected by the fact that his roommate was capable of murder.

Roger sighed and closed his file. He nervously glanced at John.

“John, er, this won’t change anything, right? Between us?”

“Of course not Roger. Not in the slightest.”

Roger nodded, happy that his new flatmate wasn’t going to turn against him so quickly. It also gave me relief to know that John would not be scared away so easily

“Go on, Bri, show us yours,” I nudged my curly haired friend.

“Nooo, Roger, I’m boring, remember?” Brian drawled

“Oh shut up you poodle man and show us the damn thing. John wants to know more about you, right Deaks?”

Deaky didn’t respond. Brian grumbled and opened the tan folder, displaying the front info sheet, with a picture of a younger version of him, pursing his lips and staring at us with fierce eyes that even almost made me shiver;

**_Name: Brian Harold May_ **

**_DOB: 07-19-47_ **

**_Height: 6 feet and 1 and a half inches_ **

**_Weight: about 12 stone_ **

**_Abnormal Ability: Peeker_ **

**_Kills: 0_ **

**_Notes: Can see about 15 minutes (maximum) into the future. Worked with BBC news until the age of 14. Usually cooperates with authorities, but will rebel for a plausible cause._ **

Brian chuckled while slowly closing the file, “See, I told you I am boring. Unlike Roger, I haven’t broken any serious laws.”

John still said nothing, silently staring at the cover of my file. Then he suddenly broke his own silence, addressing me,

“Freddie.”

“Yes, darling?”

“C-can I see your file now? I’m sorry I can’t show you mine.”

“Of course, dear. Don’t worry, I’m not as dull as Brian.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“What are you, a child?” I laughed

I looked back at John, who was now carefully having a look at my information;

**_Name: Freddie Mercury (Prev. Farrokh Bulsara)_ **

Deaky whispered, “Farrokh Bulsara, huh? Such an interesting name…”

“Oh no, dear, not at all! Freddie Mercury is much better than  _Farrokh Bulsara_ , don’t you think? That’s why I changed it!”

**_DOB: 09-05-46_ **

**_  
_ ** **_Height: 5 feet, 10 inches_ **

**_Weight: 11 and a half stone_ **

**_Abnormal Ability: Melodic Healing_ **

**_Kills: 0_ **

**_Notes: Lived in the West Kensington orphanage for the first 17 years of his life, before escaping to a nearby HFO. A normally passive person, but will turn aggressive if his close relations are threatened._ **

John visibly tensed and lowered his head for a second, as if he was in pain. Then he quickly spit out, “I’mgoingtoworki’llbebackby5” and left the room

A little while after he left, Brian turned to me and Roger, “I’m glad we’ve got John. He’s a good man, and I’ll finally get a break from talking to two idiots all the time.”

“Hey! What happened to that Brian that I met on that day I arrived on your doorstep? You even called me sir! Where’s the respect?”

Brian rolled his eyes and grinned at me, “ Sorry. I’m only joking. We’re really lucky that we’ve got a flatmate like him, though. He made breakfast, and cleaned up our mess. We should do something or him in return.”

“Don’t get yourself too happy, Bri. People change. You never know their real intentions. I used to always convince myself that my parents loved me. Look what’s happened now,” Roger muttered. 

I looked down at my dangling feet, recalling when Roger told us about his past experience with family.

***

_It was a boring Sunday afternoon on the front porch, wind blowing through our hair, and making our eyes water. I was telling my friends about the earliest memory I had with family._

_“...I don’t remember anything, really, but I do remember hearing voices. I’ve got an excellent memory, by the way, so I must have been really young. I remember my family mumbling to each other about something, and I remember being on a plane with them, most likely going here, to England. I don’t know why, really, but I do know that they left me at that orphanage soon after. It’s nice to think that one day I’ll meet them. I really do hope they’re not dead.”_

_Both of my companions sat in silence, thinking. Then Roger lightly scoffed._

_“Luckily you only had to live with idiots. I had to share a house with my parents and my sister. Fuck, I bet you both would go insane if you had to live with them. I sure did. My sister, Clare, and I were the only oddities living there. It was always either my father screaming at me and beating me for something, or my mother demanding that I get out of her sight anytime she saw me. Clare lived in my room. She was sensitive, so I told her to bother our parents as least often as possible. One day when my father was feeling especially viscous, he threatened me with a knife. I told Clare to get out of there, to save herself. And she did. But I stayed longer than I should have, and I killed them both. ”_

_Oh my, has Roger really gone through that much? I couldn’t help but feel bad. But I wanted to see if Roger would go off on me, and I was slightly ticked off at his dismissal of what I’ve been through at that hellhole. I didn’t notice Brian shaking his head at me, trying to get me to shut up about it in advance._

_“Oh that’s too bad darling! But I think I’d rather live with your parents than spend 16 years of my life rotting away in some dump full of judgmental idiots.”_

_Apparently, that wasn’t a good idea. I mean, I know what Roger’s capable of, but getting a rise out of him was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. He turned beet red in the face, abruptly rising from his seat and staring at me, empty vase in hand, “What did you just say? You have no idea how hard it was for me there. You think you could handle that? No, you couldn’t. You don’t know what it’s like to truly hate who you are.”_

_“I don’t? Oh please, darling. Come tell me that after you’ve lived with a whole orphanage full of people who think their superior to you because of your personality, your teeth, your sexuality, and your ethnic background. Don’t you fucking dare dismiss me like that again,” I sneered, rising to stand an inch taller than Roger._

_Roger and I were pushed back into our seats by Brian, who glared down at us with a disappointed glare, “ Both of you! Will you please stop arguing about who’s had it worse? Complete and utter idiots…”_

_Roger said nothing else and stalked off to his room, while Brian went in to do who-knows-what. To be honest, I think Roger was being a little sensitive about his parents, because he obviously doesn’t know what it’s like to live my life, but there was no hurt in trying to talk to him about it, and hopefully avoiding another fight._

_I found Roger in his room, sitting atop his bed. He wasn’t mad. At least I didn’t think so. I put my hand on his shoulder, “Roger? Are you ok?”_

_He jumped in surprise, but then calmed down, “Yeah, I’m alright. I just… I really want to find my sister…”_

_My heart hurt for him. I had experienced a longing for a loving family member to come find me, or to escape from the hell I used to live in to go find them. I couldn’t imagine how much it hurts to want to find a long lost sibling._

_“I’m… I’m sorry, Roger.”_

_He looked up at me in surprise, “O-oh, don’t worry about that Fred! I’m sorry too, though…”_

_I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a comforting hug. Then I felt a wetness on my shoulder. Roger was crying._

_“I-I'll find her, Fred. No matter what. I won’t give up on her,” he sobbed into my shoulder._

***

As I got up to get ready for work, I couldn’t help smiling about John. He was an absolute sweetheart, and so pleasant to be around. I couldn’t wait to get to know him better. But it was hard to ignore the fact that I think he’s _cute_  and  _adorable_. People meeting for the first time don’t continuously have thoughts about how attractive the other is.

I sighed, and checked myself out in the mirror. White matching shirt and trousers, and a yellow/black striped blazer, with a little star pin on the lapel. Absolutely extraordinary, along with my black painted fingernails.

I called a cab to the Kensington market to open up my stall for the rest of the afternoon, since I had nothing better to do. I’d talk to Roger about it next time, to see if he would like to join me.

I wonder if John plays an instrument?


	5. Bringing Back Bass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn't have his bass, so Roger and Freddie take a trip with him to get it.

It’s finally  _ my _ turn. That rotter, Freddie’s hogged FOUR WHOLE PARTS already! I get that he wanted to tell his beginning of the story, but we agreed that I’d get to talk about the third one. Not fair! Anyway, I’m Roger Taylor, and you already know me, so let’s get into it so I can hurry up and get to the good stuff. I’m not like Freddie, and I’m not really that descriptive so I’m gonna go a little faster and leave out a couple details here and there, ok? Good.

 

 Let's skip a few days since the last chapter. It was about 10 am, and I was just sitting on the couch, watching TV. It was a Sunday, so nobody really went to work anyway. Except for John, who went to his other job in the early morning. He had come in quietly, with a tired look on his face. He was obviously exhausted from being busy working away all the time.

 

“Hey John,” I mumbled, as Freddie and Brian came walking out, chatting as they entered the kitchen and greeted us both, “What’s up? You look sad, or tired, or both.”

 

The corners of his mouth tilted upwards, and he smiled at me appreciatively, “Thank you for caring, Roger. I’m just exhausted from working so much.”

 

“Why do you even need two jobs? You  _ do _ know Miami sends us money to support ourselves, right?”

 

John stumbled over a fold in the carpet, sluggishly putting away his shoes and quietly sinking into an armchair, “Well, I’m saving up to get a new bass. I’m really passionate about it. My last one--well, I don’t want to bore you. I’m sorry.”

 

“ No, no, no, you’re not bothering me, go on. Wait, do you really play bass?”

 

“Y-yes.”

 

“That’s nice,” I mused, “You could play with us! Me, Brian, and Freddie all play instruments and sing. We can form a band together or something.”

 

He bashfully hid his head, blushing, “ I… I can’t sing though. I’m sorry.”

 

“Oh I’m sorry too. I don’t even know if you’re interested in playing with anyone else. I don’t even know if you like us, hah…”

 

His head snapped up, and he looked at me with a petrified type of fear, as if he had done something wrong, “What? Oh god, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I disliked you all! I’m just...shy…”

 

“And that’s fine, Deaky. I’ve met lots of people who have a hard time opening up. It just takes time, I guess. Anyway, tell me about your last bass. What happened to it?”

 

“Well,” he began, rubbing his wrists and looking over and Brian and Freddie talking in the kitchen, “ I had a bass once when I lived in the Smith home. I used to take it out whenever the Head wasn’t there. I liked playing for a friend of mine.”

 

“Play what, darling?” Freddie inquired, bouncing into the living room.

 

“A bass. He says that he used to have one.”

 

“Y-yes,” John scooted back into the arm chair and wrapped his arms around his legs and knees, sitting as if he was a child, “ I kept it under my bed. Nobody ever checked under there anyway. I forgot to sneak it out before and I don’t think I can go get it back.”

 

“I see,” Brian pondered, “ I’m sorry for that, John.”

 

“Me too, darling. It must feel like shit to have to wait so long just to get enough money to continue doing what you love.”

 

I seized the scrap of notebook paper tucked away in the table, and a pen. My greatest masterpiece, the best thing I’ve ever thought up, was all on this tiny piece of sloppily folded lined paper.

 

_ The Machine of A Dream _

 

A new batch of lines to my masterpiece were in my head, and I had to get them down. Meanwhile, Freddie and Brian argued in the background, 

 

“NO! We are not getting a cat! How many times have I told you?!”

 

“And how many solutions have I prepared for your stupid paranoid problems? Yet you never consider them!”

 

Brian groaned and slapped the wall in frustration, “Freddie! Enough of your cat obsession! You are not a child!”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Bri,” I smirked, “Freddie doesn’t know how to drive, he doesn’t know how to boil an egg, he doesn’t know how to use a microwave, he--”

 

“ALRIGHT THEN!”

 

Freddie jumped onto the couch and stretched, “If I’m such a child, what are you, Roger? A fucking newborn? Always crying when you’re hungry, or when you took a shit in your pants.”

 

I blushed and smacked him, “No, I’m a dog. They’re much more lovable than you.”

 

Freddie didn’t talk after that. I hadn’t noticed the sad look on his face as he stared away. But I only had a couple seconds of silence before Freddie interrupted me again, so technically, I couldn’t even see what he looked like in that split second. 

 

“What if we snuck in at night and stole it back? The bass? Is there anyway we can get in, John?”

 

Before John could answer, Brian interrupted slowly sipping hot liquid from a mug of tea, “Did I hear you right, Freddie? Sneak in? What are you, 8 years old?”

 

“Hey, I think it’s a good idea! We could come up with a plan, Bri, so we fit your stupid nerdy standards. Besides, when did you join the conversation? This is between me, Roger, and John.”

 

“There’s no way you’re going to get the bass back.” He mumbled grumpily as he left the room.

_ If Freddie’s serious about this, I definitely want in. _

 

I turned to Freddie excitedly, “Are you serious about it, Freddie? Cause if you are, I’m in.”

 

He nodded as fast as his neck would allow, and turned to John, “You’re coming too, Deaky, you need to be the guide. Unless you don't’ want to, then don’t feel pressured at all.”

 

John said nothing in reply, but turned to gaze out the window. Freddie rose from the couch, quickly grabbing a random sheet of notebook paper, and a pen.

 

“If we’re going to do this, we need a plan.”

 

***

 

And only 5 minutes later, Freddie says “SCREW IT!” and insists that we go freestyle and that he thinks it works better because, “ _ With no ‘plan A’, you don’t need a ‘plan B’, darling! _ ”

 

John hadn’t said anything else regarding Freddie’s idea. Or anything at all, really. He just watched us, silently chuckling at our “immaturity” according to Bri. He mostly watched television, and flicked through the channels, until he got to the local news.

 

Another lady with a pretty face and nice assets. Probably the only reason they were hired in the first place. They sound as dense as a brick wall.

 

Tonight’s edition was going on about a dead body that was found really close to John’s afternoon job. They said the man was stabbed repeatedly, but when questioning the close family, they don’t think it was a suicide, even though there was no evidence of anyone even touching him.

 

I didn’t hear anything after that, as John abruptly turned off the television.

 

“Hey Fred, when do we leave? It’s been at least… 10 hours! 10 hours already. We ARE doing this, right??”

 

Freddie pranced into the living room, eating a banana. He swallowed the last bite and tossed the peel. “Of course we’re still going, darling! I’m going to get deaky’s bass no matter what! I’m not going to let him have  _ two _ jobs just to buy something he already has.”

 

_ Ah, Freddie. Don’t ever die, please. You’re too good for us. _

 

As we got ready, I couldn’t help but think about the sort of thing only Brian would talk about when the topic came up. What was the point of all this? Why are us four adults still here, in this house? Would we stay here forever? And, would John join our little musical group? I hope so. We could use his skill, and presence. As long as he’s not a shit player, anyway.

 

I guess it doesn’t really matter right now. That’s the beauty of being so young and blissfully ignorant, until I have to deal with future mortgages or some shit like that.

 

John stood outside, breathing in the night air. It surprised me only slightly how he wasn’t against the idea of going back to that one place. He even seemed slightly excited. Maybe it’s his friend he mentioned. They’ll most likely be sleeping, anyway.

 

“Freddie! Hurry up! We don’t have all night!” 

 

“You know damn well that a couple minutes doesn’t even make much difference, Roger.”

 

I rolled my eyes, as Brian scoffed while watching us from the porch, like a mother to her young teenage sons.

 

_ Fucking poodleheaded cutie. _

 

***

The Smith house was…

 

Not what I was expecting.

 

It was a small, rotten building with peeling sidings and missing roof shingles. Some of the windows had boards nailed against them. It was a two story home. The door was weak and broken, and the lawn out front was full of drying grass and dead plants. had thought it would have been taller, better, attractive-er.

 

Either way, I don’t live here so it doesn’t even matter. John quietly lead us to the last window on the edge of the house. It had one board on it, but John slipped it out and removed it with ease.

 

“The nail was loose. It’s so easy to take it out and make it seem secure when it’s not.”

 

He carefully slid the window open, and crawled in. John made it look so easy, with his slender figure, and all. He didn’t get stuck halfway in and start  _ panicking _ as if he was a 2 year old because he felt something touch his foot, like a certain blackhaired man.

 

“It felt _ alive _ !”, Freddie whispered, as he retracted his foot from the outside ground.

 

“Freddie, there was literally nothing there.”

 

I landed onto a small bed underneath the window, which creaked under my weight. The covers were thin, and embroidered with pale green flower patterns. I looked up to take a look around the room.

 

Practically everything was made of wood. There were two small bedside table, each one chipping and falling apart. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling, and the carpet floor was dirty. Purple moth-eaten curtains hung over the window, by the bed. One wooden door sat in the middle of the bare wall. There were nail marks scratched onto the once-smooth white surface.

 

John lowered himself carefully, bringing a finger to his lips to signify complete silence. He reached under the creaky and uncomfortable bed, and pulled out a black bass guitar case.

 

I looked over to see Freddie curiously peeking outside the door. Of course, whatever shit Freddie does, I do too. The hallway wasn’t particularly interesting, but John’s next course of action was. He slid in between us, and out into the hall. I thought he was crazy, as his hand lowered to grasp a doorknob of a door close to his. What the hell was he doing? We came here only to get his bass, not wake the whole house up.

 

Just as he turned the doorknob, a soft, feminine voice broke the silence, “John?”

 

His hand jolted away from the place it had once been, as if he had burned it, “Holy--”

 

_ I seriously need to ask what the hell this is about. Who’s this girl? _

 

The girl came nearer, hugged John, and asked, “WHy’d you come back here? He could have caught you! And...who are they?”

 

“ Who are you?” Freddie inquired sassily.

 

“I’m Veronica. I was John’s old friend, when he used to live here.”

John continued after Veronica, “We’re here because we were getting my bass back. I had left it under the bed, and I couldn’t come get it back, since he’s  _ always _ here.”

 

I put my hand on Freddie’s shoulder, guiding him away from the talking couple. 

 

“Veronica doesn’t strike me as much of a good person. I don’t know what it is. She just seems… off..”

 

I nodded. It was kind of true, anyway. She seemed off, like she was a bit too nice. I saw the way she stared longingly at him, even now. But John doesn’t seem to see it, and if he does, he just doesn’t care.

 

As we neared the two again, Veronica was pulling out a scrap of notecard paper and a pencil stub, “Here’s my phone number. Call when you can.”

 

I didn’t miss the “~xoxo” on the bottom of the scrap. I pointed it out to Freddie, and we both rolled our eyes at the young girl in front of us. Our suspicions were correct. Unfortunately, while Freddie and I were staring at the two in front of u exchanging hugs and farewells, my hand slipped, and a glass vase fell to the ground and shattered.

 

“Shit!”

 

John turned around and pulled us away into the room behind us, and quietly shut the door. As we filed up to get out of the room, I heard a booming voice yelling throughout the house. Just as John helped pull Freddie all the way through, the doorknob jiggled.

 

I had to hide. The other two were already crouching below the windowsill, and I raced to find a suitable space to hide. 

 

_ Not under the bed, I couldn’t fit under there. There’s literally only one other place I could possibly hide. _

 

A cracked white cabinet stared me in the face. There was no where else.

 

To my surprise, I actually fit just fine. 

 

The voice that  had yelled out earlier was now in this room, examining every detail to determine that nothing was out of the ordinary. I saw him through a hole in the side of the box. He gave one last glare towards everything in the room, and left, closing the door behind him. I let out a breath and slowly crept out and scrambled over to the window. Freddie and John were huddled close together, staring at the ground. 

 

“Guys! Help me get out! Let’s go.”

They pulled me out by the arms, Freddie crying out in disgust when he fell backwards from the force, claiming there were spiders below him. John held the bass close to him as we ran back home. And he didn’t let go for any reason.

  
  


***

 

“SO YOU ACTUALLY  _ BROKE _ INTO A FUCKING HOUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, THAT NONE OF YOU EVEN LIVE IN?”

 

“Brian, darling, you’re overreacting. We didn’t hurt anyone, or anything. And it’s not even the middle of the night it’s 9 pm. You just think its midnight because you sleep too much. You’re tall enough already, Bri.”

 

Brian groaned in exasperation, “Oh, shut up. At least you got Deaky’s bass back. I must say, I didn’t think either of you were capable of it.”

 

“I can do a lot of things, Bri,” I grinned, “More than you know.”

 

John ignored Brian’s shouts, and instead turned to Fred and I, “Thank you, Freddie, and Roger. I-I really do appreciate it.”

 

“Of course, darling, I’ll always help you.”

 

“Anytime, Deaks.”


	6. Kissy Kissy (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of a little moment of fluff between Roger and Brian ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIII i haven't updated this in like forever im so sorry! My dog got sprayed by a skunk :(

 “BAHAHAHAHA! JOHN, WHAT HAPPENED?”

 

My head pounded slightly from bubbling laughter that erupted in small bursts. Deaky looked away, powder on his clothes and shame in his eyes. He washed his hands and searched the kitchen for something.

 

“Sorry Deaks, didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

I’d just woken up about half an hour ago, taking my time to dress and leave my room a little while after. I just found John in the kitchen, paralyzed as he stared at a bag of pancake mix that seemed to have exploded right in his arms. I think he was trying to make breakfast, judging by the bowl on the counter and, of course, the bag that exploded.

 

He first noticed me when I laughed. Now I think I embarrassed him. I patted his shoulder, feeling it stiffen. He reached for the broom and swerved around me to clean up, “I was trying to make breakfast for you two as a thanks for helping me get my bass. I’m sorry for making a mess.”

 

“No, no, it’s fine, John, none of us will be upset, don’t be worried.”

 

He put the broom to the side and frowned, backing up towards the wall as I slowly advanced forward.

 

“I just feel terrible. I owe you both for what you’ve done for me.”

 

“Deaky, friends don’t owe each other,”  I planted my hand against the wall so he was kind of trapped and couldn’t easily leave, “Forget it, we did it because we care about you.”

 

He smiled happily, “Friends?”

 

“Yeah, friends.” I grinned.

 

Then Brian walked in, his hair tangled and bags under his eyes. He shot a glare at the man under me. Well, he wasn’t really  _ under _ me, on account of the fact that he was an inch taller than I was.

 

He grumbled sleepily, reaching for a mug and plugging in the coffee machine, “What are you two doing?”

 

John blushed and pulled away from me, not saying anything. I grinned at him, sensing his crappy attitude. 

 

“ _ Oh _ , nothing. Anyway, I was thinking...”

 

“Didn’t know you could do that…”

 

“Hey!” I huffed, “ Well, as I was saying, what if we made a band? All four of us play different instruments. What about that?”

 

Brian shrugged, “Well, I don’t know.. You have to ask John and Freddie.”

 

Freddie appeared and the doorway and strode towards me, “What did I miss, darling? I heard you were going to ask me something?”

 

“Oh yeah, I was just thinking. Hear me out on this: You, me, Bri, and Deaky. All in a band. It fits, right?!” I looked around at my friends, who all seemed to try to avoid eye contact. 

 

Brian placed his dish in the sink, “Eh, maybe.”

 

“I think it’s a nice idea.”

 

We all looked towards the youngest of us, who stopped working at the counter.

 

“W-well, I mean, it sounds OK with me,” John stuttered.

 

Freddie beamed at him, “Well, if it’s fine with you John, let’s do it!”

 

He skipped away, with John following after announcing that he was going to nap.

 

 “Well, what do you think about that?”

 

***

 

Freddie soon left the scene for some kind of coffee shop meetup with another person. This meant that the only ones in the house were me, Brian, and of course a sleeping Deaky.

 

I knew that the poodle was watching me. And I commanded his attention appropriately, swaying side to side slightly as I walked, and smirking at him in enticing ways. Brian May has many strengths. The ability to resist me was not one of them.

 

Every time I made eye contact with him, he would quickly become aware of himself for a minute and then continue to eye me as if I didn't notice it.

 

I lowered myself next to him on the couch. Although he shifted uncomfortably, it was obvious he didn’t want me to leave.

 

“Where’s the remote control?”

“No idea.”

 

“Oh there it is.” I reached over Brian, making sure to arch my back, just a little, and relax my face. He can never resist that.

 

“I know what you’re doing. Have you forgotten I can see the future?”

 

“Oh really?” I stand, stretching,”Then tell me; what am I about to do right now?”

 

Brian crosses his arms, and gives me that cold stare of his. He does this when he wants to act like he’s not interested, but he totally is. His face is all red.

 

“Roger, now’s not a good time. Deaky’s upstairs!”

 

His resistance reminds me of the time Freddie was taking a shower, just about a year ago. It was when he first told me about how he felt.

 

He had told me that morning about something important he needed to say. He was just waiting for the right time. Then when Freddie started his shower, Brian decided to call me outside.

 

He was lucky that I was already attracted to him beforehand, because he soon fell into mud as soon as I came out. When he finally pulled himself out, with a blush on his face, he told me how he felt.

 

Of course, he probably just looked into the future to see what my answer would be beforehand, but that still just goes to show how much he LOOOVESSS me!

 

I sat over him, in his lap, pressed myself into his chest, and took a deep breath. He smells amazing.

 

“Roger, off! I hear Deaky getting up.”

 

_ Ugh, right at the good part. _

 

Sure enough, Deaky stumbles out, his long hair tangled, and bags under his eyes.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hello.”

 

“Morning.”

 

The youngest leaves out the front door, probably out to his other job.

_ Finally, home alone! _


End file.
